


Koalas, Crime Scenes, and Cuckholds

by OmalleyMeetsTibbs



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Gen, M/M, Protective John Watson, Silly Case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24990448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmalleyMeetsTibbs/pseuds/OmalleyMeetsTibbs
Summary: Anderson makes a mistake that loses Sherlock a case. A dressing down occurs.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 88





	Koalas, Crime Scenes, and Cuckholds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [simplyclockwork](https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/gifts), [AnneCumberbatch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneCumberbatch/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Коалы, сцены преступлений и рогоносцы](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25483324) by [Little_Unicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Unicorn/pseuds/Little_Unicorn)



> This silly idea came from this [tumblr post](https://sixpenceee.com/post/622219421268754432/a-koalas-fingerprint-compared-to-one-of-a-human). Enjoy!

John walks in on Sherlock bent over a microscope in the lab at St. Barts. Scratch that. _Three_ microscopes, as he quickly flits back and forth between the eyepieces obviously comparing the three slides. After a last adjustment across all of them, he scoffs before yelling, “I _TOLD_ that bloody idiot these weren’t human.” As Sherlock shoves away from the lab bench, the stool makes a terrible screeching sound, making John wince in sympathy for the floor.

A flurry of dark curls and swirling coat move past John, nothing cleaned from Sherlock’s experiment.

“Oi!” John calls after the blur heading through the door. He rushes out after him, snatching Sherlock’s sleeve just inside the hall. “You can’t just leave the slides there, you git. You have to clean it up!”

With a withering glare, Sherlock stares back at John before stomping back into the lab, perfunctorily wiping down the equipment, and storing the slides back into the evidence slide holder. As he does, John ventures a hesitant question.

“Would you like to tell me what all that was about, hmm?”

Even in his aggravated, precise movements, an air of exasperated ennui accompanies Sherlock. He sighs dramatically.

“Anderson is a dullard. He mistyped a _koala_ fingerprint as _human_. Who does that, John? I could have closed this case days ago if he wasn’t so incompetent.” The slight tinkling of glass in the box can be heard as Sherlock slips the holder into his pocket.

John knows better than to question the insult, but he does wonder how it is possible to mistype such different fingerprint types. His brow furrows. Speaking of different animals, why the hell was there a koala at a crime scene?

As they move down the hall to the elevator, John catches Sherlock’s smirking at him. The posh git must know what he’s thinking.

“Do you want to know? Or would you like to wait until I lay it all out for Lestrade while ripping Anderson a new one?” Sherlock asks with a glint of pure mischief in his eye.

Unable to hold back a grin, John bites his lower lip in mock thought but mostly to hide how much he loves when Sherlock looks at him like that, like they are in on a secret together. With a playful half-shrug, John says, “Why don’t I wait to find out about it? It’s not like I know what case you’re on about anyway.”

Sherlock’s brow furrows, and a small frown forms on his face as he thinks. Then, the moment of recollection comes. “Ah, right. The conference.” His steps falter as he turns to stare at John. “Wait, why are you here? When did you get back? Speaking of, what time is it?” He glances around for a clock.

Shaking his head at the utterly brilliant dolt in front of him, John pulls out his phone to double-check the time. “Just gone seven. I got back a few hours ago, dropped off my stuff at Baker street, took a kip, and headed over here when you weren’t answering your phone.”

A sheepish look crosses Sherlock’s face. “Right. I was supposed to meet you for dinner at Angelo’s. I’m sorry. I...I’ve been wrapped up in the case and…”

John grabs his hand and gives it a small squeeze. “I figured, love. Don’t worry about it. Let’s just go rip Anderson a new one and then get some food in you. Sound good?”

Looking through his lashes at John, a smile blooms on Sherlock’s face. “Sounds lovely.” They turn back towards the elevator to head to Scotland Yard.

After a quick cab ride where Sherlock furiously researches who knows what on his phone, they arrive at their destination and head to Lestrade’s office, Sherlock moving with the grace and force of a billowing storm cloud. Sherlock rips open the office door, and John trails in behind him. Fortunately, or unfortunately for the man in question, Anderson is in attendance. John realizes Sherlock must have texted the DI for his impromptu meeting to be so well met.

Before Sherlock even begins to start talking, which is almost immediately, Anderson’s expression is so sour it looks like he just put several sour candies in his mouth, arms crossed, and fuming. Then, Sherlock’s voice fills the room.

“By God, what is wrong with you people. _You_ …” he says, pointing at Lestrade, “should fire _him_ ,” now, pointing at Anderson, “for gross incompetence.” He places the slide holder on the desk forcefully but still aware of the glass inside. “He misidentified _koala_ fingerprints as a third _human_ member at our crime scene! It completely ruined everything about this case for days! We could have caught the murder _and_ what we now know is a koala kidnapper when you first brought me on the scene, as they are _the same person_! The wife was obviously cheating on the victim with the koala kidnapper and convinced the kidnapper to abscond with her _and_ the koala! But we missed our chance at an easy capture as they are probably back in Australia right now. All because of _him_!” Sherlock’s fury is written all over his face and stance, an accusatory finger stabbing at Anderson as his piercing gaze is locked on Lestrade.

When Lestrade has a chance to understand everything Sherlock just yelled at him, a look of utter confusion consumes his face. “Wait. Back up. Koala? Where did a koala come into all of this? What the hell are you on about, Sherlock?”

With a deep sigh, Sherlock straightens his spine and lays it all out for Lestrade. John is doing his best to suppress his giggles in the background. Koalas and crime scenes and cuckholds, oh my. He already knows the title of this blog post.

“The wife of the victim was clearly cheating on him with their business partner. They run a legitimate travel business allowing them the ability to travel all over the world, in this case, to Australia. However, the wife was getting bored with her lifestyle and decided a bit of black market exotic animal smuggling sounded like a good idea.” He shows something on his phone to Lestrade. “So, the three of them, husband, wife, and sexy boy toy made their way to Australia and got their hands on a koala bear. When they got back, the deal went south. She convinced the boy toy to kill the husband and then take her and the koala back to Australia to try again later. They probably left on the flight back that same day.”

“Well, that...clears it up. I think,” Lestrade says, obviously considering the storyline. “But, hold up, how did you know to check the fingerprints in the first place?”

Sherlock rolls his eyes. “With the case being a four but dragging on so long, I knew I had to review the forensic work since you decided to put this pathetic excuse for a technician on the scene."

When Anderson makes a move toward Sherlock, John subtly steps in, stopping the progression in its tracks. Lestrade puts up a hand to stop both of them. “Now hold on Sherlock, how did _you_ know it was a koala fingerprint and not human? If I remember correctly, they are actually quite easy to mistake.”

With a scoff, Sherlock dismisses the comment with a wave of his hand. “Not if you know the markers to look for and aren’t…” he glares at Anderson, “ _incompetent._ ” Anderson’s nostrils flare, and John put up his hands in front of him, not touching, just on guard. The glare Anderson gives John is full of enough vitriol that John is surprised he doesn’t melt under the heat of it.

Lestrade glances between the two fuming men before settling on Sherlock. “Well, I’m not firing him. If you have anything else for me, give it now. If not, get out of here. There’s nothing more you can do.” Without a word, Sherlock turns on his heel and heads out the door. As he does, Anderson makes the mistake of muttering “freak” under his breath loud enough for John to hear. Before he can calm himself, John punches Anderson square on the jaw hard enough to make his knuckles sting. Anderson falls back into the wall, Sherlock spins back into the room, and Lestrade leaps up from his chair.

Seeing that John isn’t moving in for more, Lestrade rubs a hand over his face, and Sherlock smirks, eyes only for John. When Lestrade shoots a questioning glance to Anderson, he just responds with a shake of his head, rubbing his reddened jaw. With another sigh and a dark look, Lestrade turns to John and says, “That’s never happening again, you hear? Or I will make _sure_ he charges you for assault of a police officer. Now get out of here. I don’t wanna see either one of you for at least a week.”

Properly chastised, John gives a brisk nod and heads out the door, Sherlock now the one trailing behind. He leans down to whisper in John’s ear, the smirk practically audible. “You keep surprising me. How’s the hand?”

With a glint in his eye and a curl to his lip, he looks at Sherlock and says, “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Dinner?”

“Starving."


End file.
